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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22654375">The Barn-Raising</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merica_grace/pseuds/Merica_grace'>Merica_grace</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Endeavour (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Post-S6, in which everyone is lowkey really good friends because I love them all too much, morse's house, soft, somehow managed to combine the cheesy option with the gentle option and i think it went okay?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 14:34:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,975</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22654375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merica_grace/pseuds/Merica_grace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Morse doesn't really know where to start in his new house. Luckily for him, the decision is made for him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Endeavour Morse &amp; Fred Thursday, Endeavour Morse &amp; Jim Strange, Endeavour Morse &amp; Joan Thursday, Endeavour Morse &amp; Reginald Bright, Endeavour Morse &amp; Win Thursday, Max DeBryn &amp; Endeavour Morse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Barn-Raising</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by multiple things - some snippets from season 7 (no spoilers), this twitter thread https://twitter.com/sheilakathleen/status/1005116845240848385?lang=en and just my love of decorating friends' houses and the proper community feel you get from it. Hope you enjoy it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Morse couldn’t believe the house was really his.</p><p> </p><p>As he stood in what was going to be the living room surrounded by boxes and bric-a-brac, he was hit by how different it all was. No tiny upper floor flat surrounded by noisy neighbours, no basement with a liability to flood or, in his case as it had turned out, get broken into and burgled. But also no pre-papered walls, no shelves or rooms ready to live in. Just him, the belongings he brought with him, and some furniture that he didn’t have the first idea how to begin putting together with only one set of hands. At least the lights and heating worked. That had to count for something. Morse scanned around until he found where he had put his record player and collection of vinyls. He set everything up, and the gentle melodies of Rosalind Calloway filled the room. The electricity worked as well, then. What next? He supposed he could unpack some boxes, but without having built the shelves to put things on it became a bit redundant. He had to do something though, or the place would still feel more like a dream than a home. Dusting perhaps? But what was there, really, to dust? And he’d only make a mess again when he started peeling the ratty old wallpaper. Actually, that wasn’t a bad place to start. He dug out the box of clothes that contained the battered beige overalls he used for messier tasks and got to work.</p><p> </p><p>Morse wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the knock at the door came. He’d peeled off a good amount of one wall, but it was hard to judge whether that meant he’d been at it for a long time or barely half an hour – he’d been so focused he hadn’t noticed when the record had stopped and there was so much still left to do. It really would be better if he could just get on with it. A quick glance at his watch told him it was just after half past five. Hoping that whoever was there wasn’t planning to take up too much time, he put down the putty knife he’d been using, wiped his hands on his overalls and went to the door.</p><p>“Hello, matey,” Strange grinned. “We would have called ahead but I suppose your phone isn’t set up yet, and you’d already left by the time we decided.” He seemed far too casual for a work call – a plain T-shirt and jeans, and two carrier bags.</p><p>“What are you on about?” Morse’s eyebrows knitted together. “And who’s we?”</p><p>It was at that moment that the gently smiling face of Max DeBryn popped up from from the passenger door of the car parked nearby. The streetlight above glinted off his glasses. “Morse,” he nodded by way of a greeting. That still didn’t enlighten Morse as to what was going on. He turned back to Strange in exasperation.</p><p>“Thursday told us you’d just moved out this way. We thought you might need a couple more pairs of hands setting up. We brought supplies too.” At this he proudly hefted up the bags. From within came the satisfying clink of bottles.</p><p>“Oh, right. Well, come in, it’s the second on the right.” Morse stepped back to allow Strange and his supplies to pass. Max shuffled through the gate, also with a bag, but this one carried a little more delicately. He announced to Morse that he had brought a fruitcake and a couple of bottles of iced tea before following Strange down the hallway. So much for an evening alone. With a resigned sigh, Morse closed the door.</p><p> </p><p>In the living room, Morse found Strange surveying the space. When he realised Morse was there, he pulled a bottle of beer and a bottle opener from one of the bags and offered it.</p><p>“First things first,” Max began from where he was crouched by a stack of boxes, “which rooms are where?”</p><p>Morse explained the layout of the house, and Max produced a notepad and pencil from one of his pockets and drew up a little diagram. Strange, for some reason, found this incredibly amusing.</p><p>“Did you bring that just for this, or do you have it on you all the time?”</p><p>“I like to be organised, Sergeant. Next, what progress have you made so far?” Much to Max’s dismay, the answer was a mattress in the main bedroom and half a peeled wall. This was going to be more difficult than they’d anticipated.</p><p>“Right, if you give me a screwdriver I’ll get cracking with your bedframe,” Strange suggested, “and you two can move boxes into the right rooms so at least we have some more space.” Morse looked sheepish. “What?”</p><p>“I don’t have a screwdriver,” he admitted. Max and Strange shared a knowing look. The decision was made to get all the boxes organised anyway and see where they could go from there.</p><p> </p><p>They were making good progress on moving boxes and sections of furniture upstairs when another knock sounded. Once again, Morse dusted off his hands and went to answer.</p><p>“Sorry we’re late!” Crowded on his front step were Thursday, Win and Joan, and behind them stood Bright. Before Morse even had chance to say anything, the four of them bustled into the hallway and exchanged greetings with Strange and Max who had appeared out of nowhere. Puzzled, Morse looked around outside. Sure enough, there was Bright’s car. What was going on? The buzz of chatter and the thud of various objects being placed down drew him back inside; not to the living room as he expected, but to the dining room. The sight he was met with he could only think to describe as organised chaos. Bright had set out two toolboxes (“Thank god we didn’t assume Morse had one or we’d be useless,” Strange remarked) and he and Thursday had set to attaching the legs to the tabletop. Max and Joan were chatting in the corner, Max now holding his bag of homemade goods and Joan with a bottle each of red and white wine. Strange was rummaging through one of Morse’s boxes to find some glasses. Once the table was set up, Win produced a pack of paper plates and a richly scented dish of stew and dumplings which she began serving up at once. Everyone else brought together their assorted contributions – the beers, wine and iced tea went at one end of the table with the glasses, the fruitcake and a pineapple upside-down cake that the Thursdays had brought went in the middle along with some bags of crisps and nuts from Strange, and everyone helped themselves to drinks and a plate of food from Win with great appreciation. By this point, Max had copied out his little diagram of the house and handed them round. As soon as they’d eaten, they dispersed. Morse was directed to a chair and told to just relax, and then they were gone. Relax? He was even more confused than before. Where had they all gone? What was he supposed to do? He sat for a while longer, trying to wrap his head round it, before going to find out what exactly was going on.</p><p> </p><p>As it turned out, the group worked fast. Surely they must have pre-planned who would do what, Morse thought, because there was no way they could be this efficient otherwise. In his bedroom, there was already a small bookshelf set up which Bright was dutifully filling while Strange and Thursday put the bedframe together. Across in the bathroom, Joan had replaced the lightbulb and was filling up the cabinets with assorted toiletries, and Morse was convinced that not all of them were ones that he had brought with him. He went back downstairs, where Win was stocking his kitchen cupboards and Max was putting together a coffee table in the living room. It was this last room that Morse fully entered.</p><p>“Need a hand?”</p><p>“I thought we told you to relax. We can manage it.” Max raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“I don’t doubt it,” Morse retorted, “but it feels wrong letting you all do all the work while I sit and drink tea.”</p><p>“Very well, why don’t you refill my glass and then we can both have a drink.” Morse obliged, and the two of them shared a small toast to the new house. After Max had finished the coffee table, Morse joined him against his protests in setting up a cabinet to store his records. Soon, the rest of the party drifted back down for dessert and more drinks. They chatted – not about work, which was a welcome break, but about sports (mostly Strange and Thursday) and recipes (entirely Win and Max) and about a new display in the Botanic Gardens. Occasionally one or two people would dip out to go and complete another task, but there were always at least three of them sitting – yes, Morse had a full set of chairs now – round the dining table and keeping the conversation going.</p><p> </p><p>Morse had quite lost track of time again, until about 10 o’clock when Thursday pointed out that they did still have work to go to in the morning. Empty bottles were rounded up, paper plates were thrown in the bin, and Max wrapped up the leftovers on fresh plates and put them in the fridge. Bright bid Morse goodnight and took the toolboxes out to the car. The Thursdays were right behind him, wishing him a good night as he went. Win paused in the doorway.</p><p>“Fred and I are both free next Saturday if you need any help getting the walls done, and I’m sure Joan has an evening off this week some time too.”</p><p>“Thank you, Mrs Thursday, that’s very kind of you.” Win patted his arm and beamed.</p><p>“Night Morse, and congratulations again on the house. It suits you.” Joan added as she went.</p><p>“Thank you. It was good of you to come and help out.”</p><p>Max informed him that there was still half a bottle of iced tea left in the kitchen, and that he could return the bottle at work once he was done. “Or I shall perhaps be doing a spot more baking and tackling my garden on Sunday if you would like to come round.”</p><p>Morse collared Strange on his way out. “Thanks for this. It would have taken me an age to get all this done on my own.”</p><p>“You’re welcome, matey. Wasn’t my idea though.” Strange shrugged. “Thursday suggested it after you went home this afternoon.” Morse watched as Bright’s car pulled away down the street. “Anyway, have a good night.”</p><p>And with that he was left alone.</p><p> </p><p>As Morse headed up to bed, he poked his head into each room. The walls still needed painting or papering, but there wasn’t a single space that didn’t look habitable. It was a relief, really. Now it felt like a proper home. Plus, he had secretly enjoyed the evening. Not that he would make a habit of it but watching everyone going about their tasks and having fun had been pleasant. It took him a moment to find something to sleep in once he reached his room, as someone had neatly put all his clothes away in the set of drawers and wardrobe that had materialised over the course of the evening. As he closed the curtains and climbed into bed – and he savoured the ability to climb into it instead of just sinking down onto a mattress on the floor – he allowed himself a smile. Yes, tonight had been nice. Nobody had said anything about his situation or asked for anything in return, it had just happened. And with that, Morse closed his eyes and drifted off into a blissful sleep.</p>
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